#cracked eggs yells at cloud

[veinsfullofstars]

Magolor Epilogue where everything’s the same except this happens.

(ID: Kirby series fanart comic of Magolor - in his new gray purgatory garb - stranded in the green-tinted depths of Another Dimension, ranting about his defeat and thinking this is as bad as it gets, only for a familiar-looking star-shaped portal to open behind him and shoot a certain cosmic jester directly at him. Transcript under the cut. END ID.)

Started some time in summer 2023, finished 10/15/23. NOTE: This was originally posted on my deleted account on 10/15/23.

Handy-dandy transcript for ya:

Panel 1

Magolor: *exasperated* Great! Just great! Lost my Crown, lost my powers… How could my life possibly get any worse?!

Panel 2

*a crack forms in space behind Magolor, causing him to turn his head to look* vwp

Panel 3

*portal opens, shooting Marx out as high speeds, directly into Magolor’s back, in a very blurred and amusing smear frame* THUD

Panel 4

*Magolor prone on the ground on his face, Marx sprawled on top of him, both dazed and bruised as stars spin over their heads*

Marx: *disoriented, one eye swollen shut, one filled with a dizzy swirl, gesturing weakly with one wing claw* Hey hey… Did, uh, you lose to Kirby, too? (Ow… my bones…)

[eternally-racing]

how do you like your eggs? | lando norris

pairing: lando x reader (w/ best friend Danny Ric) 

genre: fluff 

wc:1.2k

summary: Lando’s determined to show you how much you mean to him by cooking you breakfast, even if he is horrible in the kitchen.

— — — — 

“You’re being way too loud, mate, you’re going to wake her up.” 

There’s too much rummaging through cabinets as Daniel asks Lando if he can get his sifter out from the cabinets. It sure as hell would be a lot easier to find if Lando actually knew what a sifter was, but as a boy who’s gotten most of his meals delivered to him and has become a creature of habit for the select few that he does make on his own, it’s safe to say that he is an absolute menace in the kitchen. 

After your boyfriend Lando had last minute decided to go to Australia to visit Daniel, you received enough facetimes and text messages from him begging for you to come visit that you had finally caved to spontaneity and flew into Perth the night before. 

Lando was nothing but a gentleman, and he wanted to do something special to show his appreciation for you going out of your way to spend time with him. Every sacrifice that you make definitely does not go unnoticed, and in the little time that he has during the offseason Lando likes to make sure that you know how much he loves everything that you do for him. 

And somehow that led to his master plan of wanting to cook breakfast for you. He knew that he was no masterchef, but Lando had hoped that having his former teammate help him out in the kitchen would be enough. It started as a plan to make a full English breakfast. Then Lando realized that Daniel’s fridge looked like he hadn’t gone grocery shopping since the two of them were teammates, so the plan got switched to just eggs and homemade biscuits. And after two failed attempts at making dough for biscuits that had only led to a colossal mess on the kitchen countertops they finally settled for making just eggs. 

“There’s a really great breakfast cafe down the road, Lando. I’m sure Y/N would like that just as much as..” Daniel’s voice trails off as he looks at what he used to be able to recognize as his own kitchen “whatever this is that you’re doing.” 

Meanwhile, Lando is at eye level with his bowl of freshly cracked eggs as he is carrying out what he can only describe as a “rescue mission” to fish out the pieces of eggshell that have fallen into the bowl. 

“Shut up Daniel, it’s a labor of love, you wouldn’t get it.” He continues to pick out a concerning number of pieces of shell.

“More like a labor of salmonella” Daniel snickers as he leans against the counter. 

The Aussie is quick to jump out of the way when Lando throws a piece of shell at him and misses, only adding to the mess in the kitchen. Luckily, he’s saved by the bell when you finally stumble out of the bedroom, sleep still clouding your eyes. 

“Good morning sunshine!” Lando yells from the stove as he’s finally gotten into action cooking said eggs. 

With the promise that in 2 minutes there would be fresh eggs for breakfast, Lando guides you to sit at the table. You hadn’t realized until this moment that you’d never seen Lando cook at all, let alone cook for you. He was a great sous chef when he asked you to be, but you weren’t sure of his abilities when left to his own devices. 

“Breakfast is served!” Lando says as he lays the plate in front of you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise, biting your tongue to keep your initial reaction from slipping out. 

“They’re poached!” your boyfriend exclaims with a smile.

Lando looks so proud and there’s no way you can break his heart over what is certainly a non-edible, definitely not poached egg that he has placed in front of you. 

“Thank you, baby” you smile as you pinch his cheek.

You can see Daniel posed behind Lando wildly shaking his hands and mouthing “DO NOT EAT” as he watches you toy with the runny eggs in front of you. You would do anything for Lando, including eating an icky egg, so you pick up your fork and dig in.

It’s definitely still raw, which you expected from its appearance, but there’s subtle hints of vinegar and sugar and something spicy that feels especially vile on your tongue. Your best attempt at a poker face cracks near the end as you try to swallow, but you’re quick to try and cover it up. 

“Wow, you did something really special with these Lan” you say, choosing your words very carefully as you try to wash out your mouth with a non-suspicious amount of water. 

Lando offers to try them and you figure there’s no point in stopping them as he piles some egg onto a spoon. You swear it barely even touches his mouth before he spits it back out right onto the plate. 

“Oh my god - you swallowed that??” The British boy doesn’t even dare to put his tongue back into his mouth as he tries to brush the taste off his taste buds. You can’t help the giggle that bubbles up inside you as you and Daniel start to keel over in laughter. 

“Mate - you let me serve this to my girlfriend?? I could have killed her or something with this!” Lando turns to Daniel in his rage.

The Aussie is laughing and is trying to rationalize that the egg is probably not deadly as he continues to gasp for air. It’s Lando who makes the next move to grab the plate and dump it in its entirety in the garbage.

“That’s a porcelain plate, Lando!” you exclaim from where you’re sitting. 

“”Please, it’s probably a biohazard at this point. I  think I owe Daniel an entirely new kitchen at this point anyways, so he can just add this to my tab.” Lando jokes as he pulls you towards the bathroom, gesturing towards the mess on the counters as you both walk away.

“Lando, she’s so in love with you because you couldn’t pay me to eat that shit.” Daniel says as he watches the both of you share the bathroom trying to brush the vile taste off your tongues with your toothbrushes.

Lando keeps the toothbrush in his mouth as he goes to wrap his arms around your waist, something that has you shrugging away since you’re pretty sure he’s drooling on your shoulder, and you tell him exactly that. From the side Daniel can’t stop laughing as he stares at you two. 

The British boy stays attached to you as he leans over to spit out his toothpaste, mumbling something you can’t quite understand.

“ I sdflksnjo sdlkgsnd” 

You almost choke on your spit listening to Lando’s babbling as you hunch over to do the same in the sink. 

“I was trying to say that I’m so lucky to have you baby. I love you.” 

You can't help but smile against Lando’s lips as you pull him in for a kiss. There’s still a vague taste of vinegar and egg that you know will linger for a little too long, but more than anything, he tastes like love.

---

author's note: this was just something fun and sweet inspired by Lando's recent interview about his Australia trip! Thanks for all the love :) Until next time! - Em 🤍

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

next part▷

0:00 ㅇ────────────────── 24:00

PROLOGUE: A BET (wc: 557)

“I hate you, I mean it. I hate your fucking guts, Edward Munson.” 

The room is hazy, clouds of smoke filling the crowded basement as the movie the friend group had originally been watching is left forgotten and playing out on the buzzing TV screen. Half full bottles of beer are scattered across the coffee table. 

“Oh, we’re using government names now, are we? Don’t tempt me with a good time, sweetheart.” 

It’s the way he says the nickname, sweetheart, that alights fresh hatred that pumps through your veins. He knows the way the pet name gets beneath your skin, the way it irritates you to no end. He’s saying it on purpose. 

“Don’t call me that,” you spit venomously, going red in the face from your rage now rather than the alcohol. 

He’s sitting in the chair across the table from you, reveling in the way you get riled up, smirking as he spreads his knees out and leans back in his chair comfortably. 

You nearly grab your own beer bottle in front of you and chuck it at his head. For a moment, you imagine the joy that would replace the vexation in your chest in seeing the glass shatter against his inflated ego. 

“Why? It’s just a friendly nickname, sweethe-” he starts to egg you on, but this time, someone else in the room has half the mind to interrupt. 

“Eddie, stop fucking with her,” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stands, “God, you two always do this.” 

“He started it!” 

“She pissed me off first!” 

You both shout at the same time, heads snapping in Steve’s direction. Eddie’s cool exterior has finally begun to crack, his frustration for you seeping out. 

It’s palpable. Flaming ire fills the air, equal parts yours and his, meeting somewhere in the middle and nearly causing a catastrophic implosion that Steve barely manages to avoid. 

“You two sound like children!” he yells, matching the hysteria. Robin and Nancy share a look behind his shoulders. 

“That’s because he acts like one,” you retort. Your arms cross against your chest painfully tight, and you ironically are the one who now resembles a toddler mid-tantrum. 

Eddie’s eyes widen as he glances at you, sneering as he says, “Me? Jesus, get off your fucking high horse.” 

“I’m not on a high horse. I’m just stating a fact.” 

“Fact? I’m not the one who’s pouting like a petulant child.” 

“Can you go ten seconds without insulting me?”

“Can you?” 

“I’ll show you a fucking insul-”

“Enough,” Johnathan groans this time, leaning his head back on the loveseat he occupies with Argyle. Most of the clouds of smoke have come from their side of the room, the joint they’d been passing back and forth still lit as it hangs between Johnathan’s fingers delicately, “You know what? I bet you two couldn’t go twenty four hours without insulting each other. And I’m willing to put my money where my mouth is.” 

“I can do you one better,” Robin quips, sitting up as she sits cross-legged beside you, “I bet they couldn’t last twenty four hours straight being around each other without killing each other.” 

“How much?” Eddie suddenly asks.

“What?”

“How much do you bet?”

And that’s how it starts. 

The beginning of the worst twenty four hours of your life. 

[rainswept]

# THE MOON IS BEAUTIFUL, ISN’T IT?

— lyney, freminet, navia : 272, 213, 206 words respectively. these don’t really make much sense tbh.

# LYNEY : love. bouts of flattery overflowing from a mouth full of bleeding gums, bouquets of rainbow roses neatly tied together in a pretty silk bow; words slipped like cards between fingers past his teeth that are pleasing to the ear but do naught to soothe the ache beneath the skin. stiff movement, perfected performance, smile lines on a face that has seen nothing but tragedy; swooning, blushing, grinning; bright spotlights, pried open eyes blind to it all. cries for an encore are like a bandage over a profusely bleeding wound that just won’t stop, won’t quiet down. gods, he’s so tired of encores.

but he is not tired of performing. the desire to still swells beneath his skin like the blood that sustains him — it always has. but it is beginning to feel like a cut forcing that deep-seated thing to the surface instead of passion, forming a wound instead of flushed cheeks, painful and slow and agonizing as it bleeds him dry. but at least now it is familiar.

dreams that leave him in a haze, warmth settling in the pit of his belly instead of knives, bread as a peace offering, hands held tight in the face of peril, soft breaths entwined without a single kiss and gentle touches to gnawing wounds. moving away from a fireplace when it gets too hot only to return moments later when you forget the feeling of being singed; a garden overgrown with rainbow roses to the point where they almost look as if they began growing wild, unbridled and free and passionate and imperfect.

which is love to him? he doesn’t quite know.

# FREMINET : tears. he thinks his tears threaten to overflow the rushing sea, bleed into the waves until he dies in a water that cannot drown him. marks that linger as memories fade, reflections on the surface of the sun; the deteriorating seashells picked up from the shaking sand at the bottom of the ocean, forever moved by the presence of another. soft touches and fleeting wishes, dry lips with sobs seeping between the cracks like water, begging for a reprieve from the loneliness that strives to swallow him whole unlike like the sea he loves so dearly — a threat versus a plea, a soft embrace instead of a bruising hold. he doesn’t know which is which.

shaky hands held beneath a star-filled sky, glistening teardrops so plentiful they mimic the galaxies and the sea alike. currents swelling beneath fingertips and seeping beneath skin as he sinks until he can no longer see. screaming, yelling, silence, cries and wails of anything but sorrow, knives to throats and blood spilling beneath a red moon to taint shallows that were never pristine in the first place. tender flesh, calloused fingers, sharp nails digging so deep into each other you could nearly get cut. you pray to the archons that the indents in your unwounded skin scar.

# NAVIA : comfort. a warm dessert melting on the tongue, meringues, saccharine and soft; a hazy memory doused in vanilla and egg whites. beds of flowers whistling in the wind, head leaned against the base of a tree, soft strands of golden hair twirled between fingers and tangling in the grass; forehead kisses, sunsets, lighthearted giggles turned to laughs so plentiful they make your chest ache.

navia wraps her fingers around yours like she never wants to let you go — it’s tender, loving, sweet, and oh so far away. the look in her eyes is distant, clouded, guilty; she gazes at the floor, the ceiling, the corner of your mouth. anywhere she can find and grasp onto but your eyes, or your lips, or your heart, or your soul — her eyes are like the moon over the water, you always told her, and the moon’s view of anything you truly want it to see has been hidden away by a fog rolling in on the horizon.

a doomed ship sails straight into the fog blanketing the sky like it wants to protect the moon to a fault. as you hold her hand tight, aware you’re watching it, there’s an innate sense it will not come back.

[daquila]

My Heart’s Delusions || Gojo x Reader

angst… no fluff… sorry…. mentions him being a horrid boyfriend when you guys were high schoolers ahahah

Cracking an egg into a pan, the wind blows gently on my skin. I listened to the slight bubbling of oil as I chopped the remaining vegetables. I have the habit of cooking as my heart practically eats itself. It created a very vacant hole— one that was waiting to be filled.

I caught a gaze of the weather: sunny yet somewhat bleak. The ocean never failed to amuse me while the students played outside in the warm sand. Looking back, I thought of our future: children roaming around, sipping tea while reading on the poarch, or even baking pie together!

I frowned, of course, and placed my hands on my hips. The eggs were browning, so I took it off the heat. The yolk reflected a distorted version of me, and I slightly giggled at the sight. Well, the potatoes won’t chop themselves up— might as well fix that.

I thought of him: the boy that spat acid in my mouth. When we were still teens, we took an empty bottle and filled it with sand, promising that we’d take care of the tiny terrarium like a kid. Our feet pressed on the cold sand, and the moon grinned at our cheesy remarks. I later found out that he was toying with me! Placing me back on a shelf and remembering me as part of his collection. To my friends, it wasn’t a shock that I was shattered— soon enough, I was out again for display.

Placing the potatoes in the boiling pot, I gradually adjust the stew’s saltiness. The mere thought of him clouding my brain makes my stomach churn in a horrifying manner. Once again, a bitter taste lingered at the back of my throat. My memories whispered to me, and my heart yelled at you.

The waves rose and fell again, breathing as if it were alive. I inched closer to the window, opening it for fresh air. Maybe this is what I needed: some salty breeze to spice up my life! Well, I have to thank him for polishing me into a woman.

[awkwardtortilla]

i can’t find dylan’s birthday but i know in my soul he has a summer birthday and we’re going with it for this request-

just imagine making sure dylan wakes up late (maybe recruiting the kids and fellow counselors to tire him out and keep him in his cabin) and getting into the radio hut to make a special announcement on the PA for his birthday before just spending his birthday spoiling him and convincing mr.h to give you back your phones for the day to take pictures of each other

i just love dylan leave me be-

Ohohohoho fuck yea

Birthday

So I was really friggin excited to write this so my brain could not form actual paragraphs so we’re rollin with bullet points. Sorry if you’re not into that

[I’m rereading this and dam I was all over the place but I’m too lazy to go back and fix it so hope you enjoy what my sleep deprived brain conjured]

warnings: none???

You had been planning this for a week, going over it again and again to make sure everything would go as it should

It had been surprisingly easy to get the kids to go along with everything (you supposed they just liked Dylan that much)

But your fellow counselors *cough*cough* Emma and Jason *cough*cough* required a bit of bribing

But $10 a person wasn’t too bad, especially when considering the cause

The day before Dylan’s birthday a group of kids (supervised by Kaitlyn) would do their best to tire him out

Then that night kids would keep him up late with bathroom trips and checking for monsters

In the morning everyone would steer clear of the cabin he slept in

But as a safety precaution Ryan would stand guard and make sure that happened

Abi would be in the kitchens with Emma cooking a small but special breakfast complete with pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausage, and bacon

Nick, Jason and Kaitlyn would keep the kids in line and keep them following the regularly scheduled activities

As for yourself, you’d be persuading Mr. H into giving yours and Dylan’s phones back for the day — just for pictures

One desperate promise to make his coffee for the remainder of the summer later, Mr. H let up and agreed and handed back the devices

Then it was off to the camp radio station

You and Dylan had hung out plenty of times and even had a few dates there so you knew your way around

You plopped into the chair, turned things on, and cracked your knuckles

When the clocked ticked to 10:30am you pressed the button and summoned your best radio announcer voice

“HEEEEELLOOOO HACKETT’S QUARRYY!!! The time is currently 10:30am and from now until tonight it’s gonna be bright and sunny with a high of 92 and a low of 74 with just a couple of clouds. A very fine day indeed. A fine day for a fine man and his birthday!! That’s right, kings, queens, and non-binary beans! Today, [insert date], marks the one, the only, the best, Dylan Lenivy’s date of birth! Be sure to wish this adorable king a very happy birthday when ya see him, I’m sure he’d appreciate all the love. And, uh, that seems to be it for now, so it’s on to the song of the day, which is Just Like A Movie by Wallows, then activities’ll continue as normal. Have a great day, campers, and remember, what doesn’t kill you, will make you stronger.”

You took your finger off the speaker button and tapped the one that played the song

As you waited for it to be over you hummed along and wondered if you had your hand cut off, would that make you stronger?

Especially if it was your dominant hand??

As the song drew to a close you turned it off and got on the speaker again just for a couple reminders

“Once again, that was Just Like A Movie by Wallows, and today is Counselor Dylan’s birthday, so wish him well when—“

The door opened and a very red Dylan stepped in

“Oh, hey, Dyl.”

“Uh— good morning, [your name].”

“Happy birthday, Dyl.”

“Thanks, [your name].”

You’re sure everyone on the other side of that microphone could hear your smirk and Dylan’s blush

He joined you for a bit and as you chatted you got ppl to yell happy birthday to him and almost go them to sing when Dylan cut you off and took the reigns

He quickly and smoothly wrapped things up and couldn’t look at you without turning pink bc of your proud, sly smirk

He “complains” about all the ppl stopping him on the way here to say happy birthday but you can tell he’s flattered by it all

You chuckle and kiss his cheek and get up to lead him to the mess hall for breakfast

You thank the girls and pay Emma as they set a stack of pancakes with candles on the top in front of a chair

Dylan also thanks them but is in kind of a daze

He snaps out of it when you, Emma and Abigail start singing

You don’t think you’ve seen his face be it’s natural shade all day he’s been blushing so fricken much

When you’ve finished eating and the girls have left, you and Dylan chat a bit then head out to do the stuff you’ve planned

I mean other than last night, this morning, and the radio announcement, you hadn’t planned much

But you did intend to spoil Dylan every chance you got and take dumbass pictures

You did both, going on walks in the woods and taking a video of him trying to impress you by climbing a tree but getting stuck

And of him trying to walk across a stream but falling on his ass

Then he took pictures when you fell in too, the images getting progressively blurry as you threw a twig at him and he dodged

There were lots of random ones of Dylan mid-conversation but lookin so dam fine in the lighting

Lots of selfies with Dylan up close showing off his nostrils and you in the back laughing or throwing up a peace sign or finger guns

There are so many fucking pictures of Dylan finger gunning at the camera it could be it’s own album

And he always has this super enthusiastic smile like 😃

Anyways

You have a pretty modest lunch but the kids keep wanting pics with him so it takes forever to finish

Afterward you and Dylan just hang around camp doing random shit with the campers

You paint and swim and end the day with Ryan’s scary campfire stories

And there’s pictures and videos of it all

Pics of Dylan concentrating so hard on his art, the hilariously bad final result

Videos of him doing the thumb measuring thing and spilling his glass of water

Stuff of him doing cannonballs and playing with the kids and posing to show off his nonexistent muscles

There’s only a couple photos of you and Dylan sitting on the ground with your backs against a log full of kids

There’s a selfie two took with all of them

Then another that Ryan took of you passed out against each other

[limpshrimp10]

Hmmm hello! I'm a beginner writer, and I've been working on this project called Bloodshot. I was hoping I could share it?

(TW... it's a virus apocalypse, so I'd assume d3ath, described g0re... stuff like that? Be careful if you're not comfortable)

Bloodshot - Prologue

This can’t be safe. Even so, a focused air hung in the laboratory, silent, the scientists worked with only the sound of a chemical reaction once in a while. There must’ve been about fifteen people, standing on this epoxy resin floor, with those egg white smocks, blue latex gloves and each the same, focused expression. One of the newer employees seems to have his head in the clouds, and as the worker turns around, distracted – *crack*, the vial goes as it hits the floor and rolls behind him. Immediately, the air shifts. Tense and anxious, accusatory and annoyed are the eyes on the man as he crouches down to retrieve it; “Leonard Brun” is written on his ID card. A slight scar in the glass goes undetected by the embarrassed scientist, even as it leaves a small clump of strangely thick liquid on his glove. His coworkers breathe a sigh of relief and exasperation, going back to their own. Leonard takes his stained hand to his face, scratching his cheek in awkwardness. Barely a few seconds later, everyone needs to turn back around, for the man has begun screaming in agony. Where he has scratched seems to be being eaten away - melting. he clutches his head powerlessly, the other colorless yet abnormally chunky liquid taking a blood red color. It eats away strangely fast through mid-cheek down to the lower jaw and what he seems to gurgle out isn’t blood nor saliva, but the same fluid attacking his body. They almost seem to come out string-like, spreading and burning down on his limbs. Frozen in horror, the laboratory is a mix of frantic yelling and whimpering. Five horrid minutes later, the man looks up through his tears, eyes wide and bloodshot. He stands up, gurgling and panting, before lunging at the nearest scientist, acidic mess spilling everywhere, risking bringing down everyone alongside him. Behind the table the nearest to the door, a ruby-eyed man uses his quick-wit. Rapidly grabbing his plum colored bag, he bolts out, followed by other lucky folks, terrified of what they have created.

----------

If anyone has advice, I'd be glad to receive it!!!!:)

[aurelia11fan]

Cracks in the Table—The Morning after

Planetunderseige wrote a spicy fic on Ao3 about Julieta and Agustín making love late at night on the kitchen table. Alas, this put cracks in it and no one knows why. My take below

“There are twelve people in this family and I’ve asked this several times now,” Alma said quietly, regarding each of her breakfasting family members carefully. “The table was in one piece last night and is now cracked. What. Happened?”

Silence. Dolores looked at Julieta and her aunt pretended not to see her.

“Very well, then. I don’t want to do this, since I understand that your gifts are not for my benefit, but you’ve left me no choice.”

Still silence. Agustín shifted nervously and Julieta shook her head at him.

“Dolores?” Alma asked. “What happened?”

“Camilo broke it, Abuela.”

“Are you serious??!” Camilo yelled at her from down the table. “Lola, come on!”

“Camilo, you broke it? How?” asked Felix, confused.

“Oh hell no!” Camilo cried. “This is not on me! Tia and tio were screwing on this thing last night and I thought it was a nightmare! I don’t have Dolores’ hearing and even I heard. I’m surprised they didn’t wake the whole damn house. I’m on the verge of throwing up just touching it!”

Mirabel, Isa, and Luisa looked horror stricken and with a groan, Mirabel dropped her fork and buried her head in her hands.

To everyone’s surprise, Alma burst into laughter while stirring cream into her coffee. Pausing to wipe the tears from her eyes, she gave her best stern glance to her oldest grandson.

“Camilo, language. And please if you want to tell a lie, at least make it a believable one. Like your parents breaking it for example.”

“Hey!” Pepa said over a mouthful of eggs.

“Julieta and Agustín are properly reserved and have always expressed their marital love modestly,” Alma continued as several disgusted groans reached her ears. Dolores bit back a laugh as Julieta kicked her shin gently under the table and gave her a glare.

If you want your tres leches…she mouthed.

Dolores scowled.

“And I say this with all the affection in my heart,” Alma continued, as she sipped her coffee carefully, “Agustín, cariño, you know I love you as a son, but I can’t see you not dropping Juli or falling off yourself while attempting such maneuvers.

“Hey, but I didn’t!” Agustín said, indignantly. Not only would he not let Camilo take the blame, but his pride was at stake. Neither of them had fallen and dammit, he was a big part of why. He knew how to keep Julieta where he wanted her.

The table went silent. Camilo looked grateful and Dolores smirked, waiting to see how her tia would take this. She was still getting her dessert, Agustíns confession be damned.

“Wait…you did?!!” Luisa asked. “Are you serious?!”

Julieta rolled her eyes to the ceiling before pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Ay, Agustín,” she hissed. “I can’t believe you!”

“And I can’t believe you’d let our nephew take the fall for this!” Agustín turned to Dolores. “What did she promise you?”

“Extra dessert for a week,” Dolores said, loving the drama unfolding in front of her.

“Julieta, what is wrong with you?” Agustín looked horrified

“You blame one of my kids and bribe another one?” shrieked Pepa, a thundering cloud lowering above her head. A small spark shot up near Julieta’s plate as a lightning bolt hit. “You entitled little brat!”

“Why am I the only one getting yelled at?” Julieta asked angrily. “Gus is just as much responsible as me for breaking it!”

“I’m not sure about that,” Agustín said with a shrug, drinking his juice. “You kept begging me, remember?”

“If you don’t shut up…” Julieta said, teeth clenched.

Pepa laughed until her sides hurt. “Well who’s señorita perfect now, mama? Still think she’s modest and sweet while defiling our furniture?”

“The table is the only thing broken!” Julieta yelled at her sister. “And we’ll fix it!”

“Do me a favor,” Pepa cooed. “Would you mind letting us know which pieces of our house you and mi cuñado haven’t physically expressed your wedding vows on? Just so I know where to sit?”

“Get a new house, Pepi,” Bruno muttered. “No part of Casita is safe.”

Horrified, Julieta and Agustín turned to him.

“Don’t even give me that look!” Bruno continued, knocking on the table. “The things I’ve seen over the years have destroyed me.”

“Bruno!”

“Well, amor, he’s right, isn’t he?”

“I told you to stop!”

Agustin figured he was in enough trouble that he couldn’t resist one more.

“Not last night you didn’t.”

“Agustín, SHUT UP!!”

“Alright, enough!!” Alma scolded, slamming her hands on the table. “Honestly!”

The adults stopped arguing and were silent, except for Felix who raised his glass in a toast towards Julieta and Agustín, while laughing hysterically behind his hand. The grandchildren, except Dolores, had already fled, muttering various things about “going to eat in and then be buried alive in the dirt” or “needing to burn the table and then my brain”.

“Pepa, Felix, Dolores, and Bruno. Excuse us please.” Alma’s voice was deadly calm. The adults left but not without smirking from Pepa and another thumbs up from Felix.

Dolores stood up quickly , seeing Alma’s expression and looked at her tia.

“You still owe me dessert.”

She then left the room, following her parents. Julieta sighed and Agustín continued drinking calmly. She pinched him in annoyance and he jerked, spilling some on himself.

“Hey!”

“You big mouth!”

“Both of you knock it off!” Alma glowered at them. “And get comfortable . We’re going to be talking for awhile.”

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Find the Vibe Tag I

tagged by: @zmwrites my vibe: "I need to get out of here." tagging: @drippingmoon, @druidx, @oh-no-another-idea, @korblez, and my doctor, who seems to be the only professional I've met yet to actually give a single fuck about my chronic pain in the near seven years I've had it lol your vibe: "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

Thriving: Aurora—

"...We gotta go," Warren murmured hoarsely, watching with wide eyes before he found his voice again. He looked directly at the others. "Evacuate. Now." "We didn't get the signal from Libra yet," Guetry said, getting to his feet. "Your signal is this," Warren yelled, gesturing to the thundering, snapping battle spitting sparks and electricity between ——— and the Emmuli. "They are going to crack this planet in half like a fucking egg and we're gonna be toast!" To emphasize his point, the rumbling erupted into a small fissure popping upward and separating him and the others. Warren sprinted over it before it could get any wider. "Go!" He demanded. "Everyone, go! Charges or not, we get out of here now!" He made sure the others started toward the shuttles before he turned to watch ——— absorbing and slicing through the Emmuli, exploding outward into particles and dissolving the clouds that struck out at them at every opportunity. Time skewed with each impact, and his memory distorted with each blow either side gave and received. A ——— drove into the ground, splitting fissures further, and once two of the cracks joined to form a larger one, the ground shifted in earnest. Warren lost his footing and attempted to stand again. Then he saw it—the shining horizon, molten metals and minerals spraying in a violent, terrifying crest into the clouds, igniting everything in its path. An unfathomably large tidal wave of planetary layers. It was being ripped apart from the inside. Warren ran. As fast as his legs could carry him, as far as he could run. The air started to boil, and the ground beneath his pounding feet shook so violently with every step that he had trouble keeping upright after a while. The stench of scorching chemicals wafted through the openings in the ground, and the Emmuli smoke combusted. The others reached the shuttles before him, and he tripped, rolling to a stop, watching the remaining ground support take off into orbit. The remaining Ganymede team leaned out of their shuttle to encourage him forward. Guetry took one look at him and vaulted out of the aircraft, and it was clear he pushed himself more than he should've, but he pressed on to get to Warren. In a millisecond Warren saw his entire life in front of him. Going to the park with his parents. Celebrating early birthdays with his siblings. Graduating high school. Graduating college. The day Thrive crashed to Earth, weaving through the trees to reach the lodegan before ETHOS. Zipping through space in the L2. Stepping on an alien world for the first time. He'd lived one hell of an adventure, alright. The crust of Torris burst open beside him, almost searing him with hellfire. He screwed his eyes shut, awaiting the end.

[ajgrey9647]

one not being to focused on carving their own pumpkin because they're too worried about the other getting hurt while carving theirs :( + Jason/"Tommy" (for some reason I'm picturing them in that Alt World Drakkon made? Where he got to play superman and Jason taught kiddies karate with Lauren~)

An Autumn Day in His Utopia/Delusions of Normalcy

Waking up in the mornings was different these days. After a deep, restorative sleep with none of the usual nightmares and worries, ‘Tommy’s’ hazel eyes cracked open into the bright sunlight streaming in through the window near his bed. The sky outside the glass pane was a vivid, iridescent blue with nary a cloud to be seen.

The teen sat up in the bed, glancing about the beautifully appointed room, a far cry from the old days of bare, lumpy mattress, musty smells, and sparse furnishings. One of the best parts of this new life was there was no longer any sharp yelling, quick tempers, vicious verbal dress-downs, or the ominous cracks and thumps of breaking furniture.

Pushing aside the lush green comforter, ‘Tommy’ stood to look out into the courtyard below. He’d taken some creative license with the weaving of his perfect world, incorporating elements that he’d always found himself drawn to from among the many places he had lived with his ‘old parents’.  For this reason, the scene outside was reminiscent of the Midwest in terms of vegetation and weather.

A light breeze gusted, rustling the brilliant red, orange, and yellow leaves across the frost tipped blades of grass. There was a nip in the air that made one’s nose tingle inside with the cold, but that was also invigorating. It was going to be a lovely day in October and, barring any interference from otherworldly attackers, it promised to be his oyster.

‘Tommy’ crossed to his closet, the abundance of warm flannel and corduroy a delight under his fingertips. No more threadbare, stained, secondhand garments for him ever again. No more suffering with the skin of his bare arms rough from gooseflesh, his chest tight from the chill penetrating the thin cotton of his t shirts.

Pulling on a green and white flannel button up and green pants, the boy easily opened the door to the hallway, no longer fearful of what might be awaiting him on the other side. Smelling the crisp, distinctive odor of bacon frying from downstairs, his mouth watered and the grumble from his stomach made him chuckle.

Nothing roused his appetite more than a cool autumn day!

Galloping down the carpeted stairs, ‘Tommy’ noted his faithful servant, Finster, standing at attention beside the curved end of the bannister.

“Good morning, sir! Sleep well?” he asked, solicitously, giving the teen a respectful bow.

“I did, indeed, Finster! Thank you! Breakfast smells delicious!’ ‘Tommy chirped, moving into the kitchen.

The small, white figure followed him, sweeping up a tray bearing a small collection of white, covered china plates and a tall, crystal glass of orange juice as his charge took a seat at the polished mahogany table. Finster artfully arranged the dishes containing the bacon, eggs, and toast before ‘Tommy’s’ ravenous gaze.

“Any plans for today, sir?”

Plucking a slice of toast coated with strawberry jam from the proffered breakfast, Tommy munched it thoughtfully as he considered the wide array of options to him. With such a picturesque fall day, it seemed the thing to do would be to indulge in all the classic activities that autumn presented.

“Hmmm… I’m thinking about making a trip out to Mitchell’s Orchard. Maybe enjoy some apple cider, take a hayride, walk the corn maze. Feed the baby animals,” he grinned, relishing the wholesome innocence of it all. “And, of course, carve some jack-o’-lanterns.”

Finster nodded sagely.

“Wonderful, sir! Will you be driving there? I can have Cranston bring one of your cars around.”

‘Tommy’ shook his head.

“Nah, I think I’ll just take my bike, get some fresh air and sunshine. The Orchard’s not too far.”

Crunching a piece of bacon, the teen had another thought.

“Have the other servants gather some firewood and prepare to have a bonfire tonight. I want hot dogs, marsh mellows, hot chocolate…the works! Invite everyone!” he exclaimed, feeling flush with excitement at the prospect of being surrounded by so many attentive, admiring, loving faces.

“Excellent idea! I will have them start immediately! Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

Scrapping the chair back from the table, ‘Tommy’ eagerly bounded into the living room, scooping up his green knapsack from the side table near the front door.

“That’s all, Finster, my friend. I’m heading out now, but I’ll be back around dusk. Hopefully, those invading beasts will give me at least one day off. However, I’m prepared in case they decide they want to rock and roll again!”

Moments later, the wheels of ‘Tommy’s’ bike crunched over packed gravel and out onto the roadway. His long dark locks lifted about his shoulders in the still chilly wind. Considering his immense powers, a bicycle helmet was a non-issue for him and he decided to forgo the covering in favor of the sensation of flying over the pavement. The city skyline cast jagged edges into the bright blue off over his left shoulder, the buildings towering over the ant-size populace below them.

The knap sack bounced against his lithe, graceful back, the reiteration of his body in this universe much different from Lord Drakkon’s muscle-strapped, intimidating physique from the Coinless World. Here, ‘Tommy’ was a handsome, young teenager, his skin smooth and unblemished, no rope-like, snaking veins creeping up his neck into his jaw and cheeks like a high collar. His shiny mane was a solid warm brown hue with no trace of grey.

Reverting to his teen years in an idealized form meant that ‘Tommy’ was getting a second chance, a do-over of his chaotic, abusive, and violent younger years. In this universe, he felt no desire to attack, fight, scream, or menace. Others looked at him not in fear or anger or horror or disappointment, but fawned over their resident hero, desired to befriend him, to please him.

Why couldn’t things have always been this way? Then he wouldn’t have had to become the meanest, wildest motherfucker who ever lived. He could have had friends and possibly even a soulmate, a deep, passionate love that he would be able to trust and confide in.

‘Tommy’ shook his head, forcing the uncomfortable musings from his mind. He was going to have a good day and not dwell on the shit that loomed over him in another life. The instinctive, vigorous motion extended down his upper body and arms, causing the front of his bike to wobble erratically.

“Fuck!” he snarled, Drakkon’s harsh, deadly tone slipping back into existence.

The powdery loose gravel under the tire pulled the bike into an almost slick skidding towards the edge of the road. Braking made the slide worse and ‘Tommy’ ended up dismounting the out of control contraption. Landing in an untidy heap that was not the picture of grace he was accustomed to in this world, the teen quickly regained his feet, brushing the small pebbles and dust from his pants.

“Goddammit!”

A hand on his should nearly made him shriek in surprise.

“My lord, are you alright?” a warm, concerned voice asked, tinged with a touch of awe.

Spinning around, ‘Tommy’ found himself face to face with Jason Scott, the dark-haired teen who he’d made a karate instructor in this kaleidoscope universe. He was dressed in a long sleeved red and black flannel shirt and red jeans, the thick material unable to hide the Red Ranger’s muscular build.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just hit some loose gravel,” the green-clad teen stammered, caught off guard by those beautiful midnight eyes.

‘Tommy’ felt his cheeks flame, embarrassment mixed with an explosion of papery-thin butterflies into startled flight. This reaction was not completely foreign to the dictator, merely annoying. He didn’t like the way his stomach twisted in knots and words jumbled in his brain when in Jason’s presence, much like when they were in high school together before he’d returned to Rita.

But this Jason was not ‘his’ Jason, not the Coinless Jason. That unfortunate Ranger was still locked securely in his palace, psychotic and traumatized and broken. Yet, it didn’t matter. Standing out in the open with Jason like this, without the other boy being under heavy restraints and yelling and cursing his name, was odd.

Dark brows scrunched together in worry.

“Forgive me, but you seem distracted, sir. Is there something I can do to help?” Jason tried again.

‘Tommy’ stared at the other teen, struggling to know what to say, feeling foolish standing here like he was addled.

“I was just wool-gathering,” he finally muttered. “It figures I’d find a way to ruin a perfectly beautiful day by ruminating on the past.”

The Red Ranger looked confused by the statement but didn’t press the issue. Instead he flashed a somewhat bashful smile and nodded towards ‘Tommy’s’ downed bike.

“Allow me, my lord,” he offered, striding over and righting the bicycle before wheeling it back towards the other teen. “Not to sound impertinent, but where are you headed?”

“Mitchell’s Orchard,” ‘Tommy’ whispered, feeling a tingle arc through his hand when his fingers brushed Jason’s as he took possession of his bike.

He hoped his gasp hadn’t been audible to the Red Ranger.

“Beautiful day for it, sir.”

The awkward teen dug the toe of his sneaker into the grass nervously, heart thundering while he worked up the courage to ask a rather mundane question. Jason was standing so close ‘Tommy’ could smell his comforting scent and feel the warmth radiating off his body, his aura still a protective one even here where Drakkon was the invincible hero.

“Would you want to go with me?” he finally blurted out, hating the high-pitched, girlish tone that accompanied the question.

The Red Ranger blinked in surprise, his full lips parting.

“I’d be honored to, sir!”

‘Tommy’ then waited while Jason wheeled his bike from the garage and waved to his parents in the front window of their living room. Mr. and Mrs. Scott appeared to beam with pride that their son was in the company of such a revered superhero. They looked nothing like their real-world counterparts, both individuals in this universe healthy and happy.

‘He should thank me for that,’ the disguised Drakkon hissed to himself. ‘I let him have a good existence here.’

“Ready?” Jason smiled, hiking a leg over the seat of his bike.

‘Tommy’ forced Drakkon’s anger and frustration to the back of his mind and returned the friendly grin.

“Alright, let’s go!”

A short time later, both boys steered their bikes into the entrance of the large orchard. Large bales of hay were stacked about haphazardly, errant leaves snagged in the rough strands. A small number of families milled about, staring into the little pens housing the baby goats, pigs, and rabbits as their children laughed and shrieked with soft muzzles whispered the edible offerings from their hands.

A large green tractor was situated off the left; it was attached to a trailer with wooden slats for seat and its floor obscured with more hay. The hayride skirted the outside of a large pumpkin patch where one could select their very own to take for their perfect jack-o’-lantern. The corn maze was beside the pumpkin patch, the wispy stalks rubbing in the breeze.

‘Tommy’ pointed at a wooden building in the middle.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. Want to grab some cider?”

Jason nodded as he engaged the kickstand on his bike.

“That sounds great, my lord,” he answered, not seeing the frown crease the other boy’s face.

Clearing his throat, ‘Tommy’ patted the Red Ranger’s shoulder.

“I appreciate the respect, but you can call me ‘Tommy’ today, ok?”

Jason’s dark eyes appeared uncertain or uncomfortable; the other teen couldn’t decide which.

“I’ll try. It will take some getting used to, uhh, ‘Tommy’,” he answered. “Just feels wrong to be so familiar.”

The teens entered the small store and were assailed with the strong smells of apple, cinnamon, pumpkin, and a touch of pine. Wrinkling his freckled nose, ‘Tommy’ looked over his shoulder at Jason.

“I think we’re going to permanently smell like fall after being in here!”

The Red Ranger laughed, following the other boy toward the front counter.

“I think you’re right.”

The woman working the concessions was stunned almost speechless when she saw who was patronizing their establishment.

“My lord?” she squeaked. “What can I get for you and your friend today?”

‘Tommy’ gave her a broad, hero smile, causing her to become more flustered.

“We’ll both have apple cider, please. And two apple cinnamon doughnuts.”

The poor lady nearly tripped all over herself to get the requested goods for such an esteemed patron. Her eyes skimmed the selection of powdered confections, huffing while she tried to pick the two doughnuts that were the most perfect specimens.

Returning to the visitors, she passed them the drinks and food.

“No charge for you, of course, sir! Please let us know if we can be of any further assistance!”

‘Tommy’ flashed his winning smile again.

“Of course. Thank you, beautiful,” he teased, giving her a wink that made her swoon.

Both teens walked outside, munching on the sweet doughnuts and sipping their cider as they considered what activities they wanted to partake in. Finishing off the rest of his beverage and smacking his lips, ‘Tommy’ tossed his empty cup in the trash bin and Jason soon followed suit.

Impulsively grabbing the Red Ranger’s hand, the dictator tugged him towards the large tractor orchestrating the hayride. So caught up in the beautiful day, with the delicious fragrance and cool breeze, its bright colors, ‘Tommy’ truly relaxed into the enjoyment of the day, thoughts and memories of his past and of Drakkon securely stored in the back of his mind.

The excursion on this wonderful autumn day was like nothing ‘Tommy’ had ever experienced before. He’d not had much use for such wholesomeness and childish wiles, usually ending up running from the cops or engaging in some type of physical scuffle with someone who’d pissed him off. He was someone who always had acquaintances, not friends. In the past, ‘Tommy’ preferred to hole up somewhere hidden, enjoying a smoke, a drink, maybe some ass if the mood took him.

Not cavorting about an orchard with his enemy.

‘Tommy’ had pulled and tugged on Jason’s wrist so much as he’d excitedly drug the Red Ranger from activity to activity, that the other teen was starting to develop light bruising and pain in his forearm and elbow. But the obvious joy sparkling in the hazel eyes made the discomfort worth it.

Together, the two boys had taken numerous rides about the orchard in the hayride, trekked the corn maze a couple times, fed and stroked the baby animals, drank more cider, and climbed the assembled hay bales constructed for daring adventure. And, of course, they each selected a bright orange pumpkin fresh from the patch.

They’d laughed and joked and cut up, their cheeks tinged pink with the chilly air as the day began to dip towards early evening. Beginning to feel the first tugs of exhaustion, Jason had suggested an idea to his new friend.

“Hey, it’s getting late, Tommy. Do you want to come back to my house and carve our jack-o’-lanterns?”

Looking up at the sky that was slowly deepening in color, ‘Tommy’ decided he could be late to his own bonfire. And perhaps Jason could be convinced to accompany him there as well? He wasn’t ready to part from the Red Ranger just yet.

“I’d like that, Jase.”

Balancing the pumpkins precariously as they peddled their bikes, they somehow managed to make it back to Jason’s without dropping them onto the road. Jason ducked into the house to grab sharpies and a couple of sharp knives.

“Have a good time, Jase?” his mom called from the living room as the teen hunted in a cabinet for a large bowl to collect the seeds for later roasting.

“Yeah,” he answered absently. “We’re going to carve some pumpkins out on the driveway.”

“’Tommy’s here? At our house?” his dad marveled. “I’m glad I decided to finish all the yard work yesterday!”

“Perhaps he’d like to stay for dinner?” his mom exclaimed, jumping from her place on the couch to inspect the contents of the fridge.

Jason didn’t appear to register the question as he disappeared out the door again. He smiled at ‘Tommy’ sitting on the pavement, each pumpkin nestled side by side in preparation for their amateur plastic surgery. Settling next to the other teen, Jason laid out their equipment and laughed.

“I have no idea what kind of face mine is going to end up with,” he managed. “How are you going to do yours?”

But ‘Tommy’ didn’t hear Jason’s question. His hazel eyes were locked on the sharp, deadly carving knives laying on the pavement by their thighs.

‘Such dangerous, wicked things capable of so much damage,” he mused. Like right now for instance, he could easily grab the black handle and thrust the blade into Jason’s side, into his belly, his back, his face. Blood would flow, possibly spray if he snagged an artery, the liquid pulsating with each racing, self-defeating heartbeat. Jason would try to run, he had no question, coating the driveway, the grass with the scarlet fluid before he blacked out and collapsed.

‘Tommy’ felt his hands tremble as they sat atop his knees. He watched as the Red Ranger picked up one of the knives and began to attempt one of the jack-o’-lantern’s triangular eyes. His eyes vividly followed each thrust and tug of the blade down the stiff rind.

Unbidden, his mind cast back to a grimmer place and time. A cold, stone cell in the dimly lit dungeon of his palace. Defiant dark eyes blazing in fury but hiding a frightened child’s terror as they locked on the small, shiny blade in Drakkon’s gloved fist. Swearing and threatening even as the chains restraining his arms to the hard wall clanked when he yanked uselessly and helplessly upon them.

“Fuck you, asshole!”

An evil, feline laugh.

“Such language, you little Red bitch! But keep running that smart-ass mouth of yours! Please do! It will make your tears that much sweeter!”

Tearing the already tattered red shirt from his prisoner’s body, smirking at the flinch backwards into the wall, the panicked panting. Dragging the point of the knife through the warm, quivering flesh, blood rolling in rivers from the numerous small cuts before an eager tongue lapped up the coppery-smelling liquid. Jaw clenched tightly, eyes now squeezed shut, fighting the screams of pain that would be pointless here.

Then failing.

Tears and blood and screams, pleading and begging, the frantic tinkling of rattled chains, the smell of panic and desperation. Now the teasing tongue moving to sample the salty drops rolling down bruised cheeks.

“Tommy?”

A warm hand covered his icy one still perched on his knee, making him visibly jump.

“What!” he nearly barked, still in the throes of a remembered torture session, hazel eyes pooling to black.

Jason flinched back, removing his grip on ‘Tommy’, his eyes fearful now, mirroring those of Coinless Jason in another time.

Panting, ‘Tommy’ licked his lips and gradually settled back into the present moment.

The bright orange flesh of the pumpkin partially carved in front of Jason helped to ground him.

“Sorry,” he tried. “I was doing it again. Wool-gathering.”

He tried a shaky grin.

‘If Jason hurts himself cutting that stupid thing, I’m liable to set on him like a rabid dog,’ ‘Tommy’ realized. ‘And I actually don’t want to. I want things to be different here.’

“It’s alright,” Jason responded, shifting his position on the ground to face his friend. “I meant what I said earlier. If there’s anything I can do to…”

His statement was cut off when ‘Tommy’s’ lips descended on his own, pressing against his mouth shyly. It wasn’t the lewd, tongue-laden kiss that Drakkon frequently forced upon Coinless Jason, but a close-lipped peck.

The Red Ranger’s eyes widened as ‘Tommy’ pulled his head back, nervously waiting for Jason’s reaction. The dark-haired teen licked his lips slowly, thoughtfully.

“Wow,” he breathed softly. “Ummm…thanks?”

‘Tommy’ felt his cheeks redden. He felt so foolish and dumb and worthless. Why the fuck did he do that?

“Can I have another?” Jason whispered, his fingers gingerly entwining with the other boy’s.

Leaning over, the Red Ranger brushed his mouth to ‘Tommy’s’ freckled cheekbone, making the teen hiss, fire heating his face.

“Jason?”

“What?”

“Why don’t we abandon this project and go somewhere more private?” he growled, his eyes tracing the Ranger’s full lips.

Later, once the bonfire was in full swing and Finster had started to worry, ‘Tommy’ appeared but seemed to be avoiding the throng of admirers seeking him out for accolades. His lips were still slightly swollen and felt almost bruised from the intense make out session. He’d really struggled to control his feral urge to pounce, to be aggressive and controlling.

The anticipation of the next planned tryst with Jason made the delayed gratification worth it.

[xaviernottheprofessor]

16 Candles Who: Xavier and Winter have a nice little talk. When: Thursday, February 15th, 2024 Where: The Mitchell Residence Mentions of: @fletchervanhall and others!

Xavier was in a phenomenal mood. He really didn't care if he was running on little to no sleep, he was on cloud nine or at least that's what he imagined it felt like. Once he got in the house, he checked on the kids to make sure they were still asleep. He wanted to surprise them with a big breakfast and and with the news that he was going to be home for two weeks straight. He wasn't going to appear in next weekend's episode and he had arranged doing the table readings for the week by Zoom. The main reason for all of this? Winter's 16th birthday. Not only was he going to make sure she had the best and most memorable birthday but he wanted to be sure to be home for it all.

The comedian moved around the kitchen, getting some fresh bacon on the skillet and popping in some muffins into the oven. He'd cook the eggs last. Whistling and dancing around to some Sade, Xavier took some time to stop at his fridge and read any notes from Louise and if there were any school announcements he might have missed.

"Nice flowers."

The sudden interruption scared him to the point of yelling and jumping and Winter's giggles filled the room. "You gave me a fright you little stalker." He held up the bacon tongs when Winter hugged his side and then playfully pushed her foster dad away to get some orange juice.

"Walk a shame, Dad?" She smirked as she pulled out the pitcher of freshly squeezed.

Xavier felt like this should probably be a lesson in boundaries but everytime Winter called him 'dad', he melted. Henry did it practically the first week but Winter had given him such a hard time. "No, not the walk of shame. How do you even know what that is?"

"How do you?" She grinned, pouring them both a glass of OJ. "I'm yanking your chain, dad. Though...I'm pretty sure I'm right. Especially with those pretty flowers. I know they're not mine because you know I hate flowers so..who gave them to ya?"

"Darling, can a guy get himself flowers?"

"I mean, sure. But why?"

"I was sad." Xavier retorted.

"Yeah, dad you look soooo devastated." Winter teased Xavier and handed him the glass. "Are they cute?"

He took a sip of his juice and then turned his back on his foster daughter to flip the bacon." Xavier smiled though, thinking about the night he had but did not give up any details.

"Oh, so it's like that. Henry and I have a list of reasons why you're paired up with someone. Henry thinks it's Juniper. I think it's Rodrigo's friend. The math teacher? With the satin robe?"

"Ziggy?" Xavier laughed and began placing the strips on a plate. "Are you mad?"

"What? He's a good looking guy, dad and I think he'd make you happy."

Xavier couldn't help but smile and then walked to the fridge for the eggs. "I hardly know the guy."

"Or that's what you want us to think!!" Winter then reached for a bowl to help Xavier crack the eggs. "Come on! Please tell me something! Is it Emma?"

"Emma is gay, honey." Xavier shook his head and took out the butter. "It's not anyone you know."

"AH HAH! I knew it."

"Oh, darn. I mean it's not what you think it is. Yet, I suppose. But enough about me. How's your guest coming along."

Winter cracked six eggs into the bowl. "I gotta talk to Riley or Aldrich about it because it's giving me a serious headache. We're tabling the boyfriend-girlfriend conversation by the way!" She pointed her fork at Xavier and he put his hands up in faux surrender. "I don't know. Would it be SOOO bad if I invite the entire 10th grade class?"

"Um...well, I wouldn't mind if the venue could hold it. It's your 16th birthday so it's whatever you want. Within limits of course. What concerns me though is just a month ago you wanted no party. And you said you hated your entire grade except for the twins."

"I over-exaggerate." She sighed. "That's all."

Xavier gently took the fork from Winter as she was whisking the eggs as if she was on a mission. "Hey, what did those eggs ever do to you, darling?"

Winter gripped the island. "This is the longest I've been placed. I like my school. I like the teachers. And maybe I like the kids too."

"Nothing wrong with that, honey. If you like it, that's great. What's not to like, right?" Xavier poured the eggs into a pan.

"It's not that. What if the agency calls and say they want to adopt Henry? Then what?"

Xavier remembered what his friends had mentioned to him. Perhaps Winter didn't think she'd be at the school long. "That's not going to happen. I was going to wait to tell you but I did want to speak to you about adoption...first. Before I speak to Henry."

"I knew it," Winter whispered and quickly wiped her eyes. "Is it the music? I'll stop listening to it. I'll stop making fun of Uncle Clayton and his sock problem. Is it because I left the lights on all night the other day? I was scared of intruders and I really hate it when you leave because when you're here you make us feel protected. Lousie is great but I've never had a real dad and you make me feel like a real daughter, not one that cleans the house or does chores so that I can have a bedroom. I'll cancel the party. I don't have to invite the whole 10th grade...I--"

"Whoa---darling, what are you going on about?" He flipped the eggs and lowered the heat before turning to face his foster daughter who had already attacked his side with a hug. Xavier placed the spatula on a spoon rest and wrapped his arms around Winter. "What's going on with you?Talk to me."

"You want to adopt Henry and not me. And I understand and it's stupid and Henry deserves a dad like you so I shouldn't be mad and I know you'll let me visit but I want to be a part of the family too. I like ice cream Tuesdays and I love hearing your car park outside when you get in from New York. I love you so much and I'm sorry."

"Winter...Winter. Hey. Listen. Let's take a giant deep breath for one minute." He lifted her chin and drew in a deep breath so that she could follow along. "I never said anything about not adopting you. I want you to be my daughter. Legally. On paper. On a birth certificate. Both you and Henry. I want you both to my kids and I've already started the process. They did a home visit the other day while you were both in school. I'm trying to cut down on traveling and do as much as I can from home. we're just waiting for court documents to be processed and then a court date. I wanted to surprise you for your birthday but Rebecca and Emma had mentioned that maybe you were afraid this was a temporary situation and that's why you're suddenly party crazy. And if you still want the big party, I'll give you the biggest party ever...."

Winter couldn't stop crying as Xavier spoke. "Really? All of it? You want me to be your daughter?"

"Of course! Who else will keep me in check around here?"

Winter sniffled and went back to hugging the older man. "I still want a party." She whispered into his shirt.

"So be it."

"I want you to be there. And everyone else. Like as chaperones."

"Well, yes. I wasn't going to let you guys turn this party into chaos."

"And I want a big dress." She buried her face into her father's side.

"Really?" Xavier turned slightly to remove the eggs from the heat. "Sure. A big dress."

Winter remained attached to Xavier's side as he cooked and after a few minutes, she added "I love you."

Xavier leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "I love you too, darling."

"Dad! Walk of shame, huh?" Henry grinned from ear to ear.

Winter and Xavier then yelled simultaneously, " Henry!" And then Xavier added, "No more trash tv. for you children."

"Winter told me to say it! I don't even know what it means. I just know I'm hungry and I smell bacon and you two are weird. Why are you crying?"

Xavier prepped his kid's plates and had them sit at the table in the kitchen. "We'll talk about it over breakfast."

"Why is it called walk of shame? What are you ashamed of? Did you step in doo doo?" Henry asked as he quickly set the table."

Winter then placed her arm around him and whispered into his ear. "Dad is totally seeing someone. Peep the flowers."

"Winter!" Xavier shook his head inside the fridge, pulling out condiments and drinks.

"WHAT?! Ten dollars it's Ziggy!"

"Aunt Juni for sure!"

"Oh! maybe Louise!"

"I think it's Mrs. Moran!" Henry giggled.

"Ew she's like 70!"

"Winter, that woman is at least 60. Leave her alone." Xavier sat at the table. "You don't know them."

Henry and Winter beamed and looked at one another.

"Called it." Winter whispered.

"Eat! We have 45 minutes!"

Under the table, Henry and Winter gave each other "five" and then squeezed each other's hand. Winter couldn't wait until her little brother found out he finally had an amazing dad and that he was her amazing dad too.

[bluiex]

Hi! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Haven’t been writing as much but since I’m back have some fluffy snow bugs making cookies + a Poem!! ༺ ✧ ༻

When love comes from you, I could never get sick of it my dear. You are to be my light and my darkness. 

༺ ✧ ༻

Scott’s laugh was like the clouds, a soft, silky smooth sound with cracks as if it was ice melting. There was nothing Tango loved more then to hear it. Just to be near Scott, as he looked simply beautiful.

“Firefly, your meant to add half a cup of sugar, not salt.” He states calmly as Tango flushes with embarrassment. He groans as he gets rid of the bowl full of pure salt(Which is probably deadly if eaten.)

“Help me?” Tango looks towards Scott with a sad face that could rival even the saddest of wet cats. Scott hums are he starts to grab the missing ingredients, then places then down.

༺ ✧ ༻

I hope one day you are to see your greatness too. I know that one day is not near, but I make promise that I will make you have the love I have always have for you. 

༺ ✧ ༻

“Grab that one really big bowl, one of the smaller ones and then the mixer.” Tango grabs what Scott tells him to, then stands awkwardly against the counter waiting to be told something else.

“Mix these together for me?” He hands the blonde the bowl, “Gently.” He sternly warns before continuing to measure the flour. Tango grumpily turns around to mix the egg yokes. 

“How does someone gently mix something?!” He mumbles to himself after he attempts to gently mix the egg yokes(with just a few spills). When he presents the eggs to Scott, he giggles. “What? Is there something on my face?”

༺ ✧ ༻

I do not know if you love me the way I do you, but you have been here for me and for that you have brighten my days.

༺ ✧ ༻

“I don’t know how you did it but there’s some right-” he reaches his hand to wipe away whatever got stuck on his nose. “There.” And just for that moment they stand still looking at each other like lovesick idiots.

“Did you preheat the oven?” Scott says breaking their comfortable silence. Seeing the confused look on his lover he sighs, “You didn’t know you had to preheat the oven, didn’t you?”  He stares unimpressed at the other’s sheepish smile.

“Hey! This is my first time baking!” Tango argues, the shorter hums as if he wasn’t even listening. “Wha- I’m being very serious!” Scott hums again completely ignoring his complaints.

༺ ✧ ༻

Even if I was never to feel you skin on mine again, I’d cherish the thought of you even being near. You smile warms my days, so please do not frown.

༺ ✧ ༻

The smoke was the first indicator that something was wrong. The second was Tango frantically trying to open the oven with out any mittens or cloth. “I PUT THE TIMER TO LONG!” He yells out to call for his lover to which he comes running from seemingly out of nowhere.

“I told you 20 minutes and then to put it back in if it wasn’t ready!” The starborn argues slightly before calming down and using a cloth to take them out. “This is why I dont trust you in the kitchen.” He grumbles as he looks at coal lookalikes.

“I’m sorry! I thought I could just put them in for like 25 and it be fine!” The blaze says sadly. His lover disappointedly shakes his head at him. He sighs “How about I make it up to you and we just head by Jimmy and the others to see if they can help?” 

༺ ✧ ༻

May one day who ever controls the heavens and the earths take pity on you and carry you to safety

༺ ✧ ༻

“Hey. I’m sorry I burnt the cookies last time.” Tango sniff as he sits down next to the grave with a small bowl of cookies and some fresh flowers. “I think I won’t stop missing you.” He smiles sadly.

“Uh, Jim made the cookies,” He awkwardly sets down both things as he takes a cookie and watches it. “I think he felt bad for me. I’m not really sure.” Tango stares at the cookie before starting to cry, “I love you..”

The night grows cold but to him this is will be the warmest it can ever get without his lover. He’d love him for ever, no matter who dare and try to force him to forget. No matter how long the grieve will stain him.

༺ ✧ ༻

I lied. I love me some great ol’ ANGST.

-🌺🪸🥀

GA AAAAAH AAAAAH COMING BACK WITH ANGST TRAIN BRO

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

[dead-dog-dont-eat]

Doing another fanmade Ben 10 alien species. So here we go:

Here we have a species of Titrōbitumites (combining the words "titrōskein" which is Greek for "trauma / to wound" and "bitumine" which is the Latin word for "slime")

Titrōbitumites are slime/sludge-like humanoid creatures, similar to Polymorphs like Goop, and are distant relatives to Polymorphs in general. They are from the planet, Titrōbitumide, which is a supposed desert planet, but the dirt is actually moist soil that looks like dirt. Titrōbitumites live in the ground and make themselves into egg-like protective shells from the outer parts of themselves, and when cracked open, they leave a shell behind that is worth money from value. While native to their planet, they can be reported to be found on other planets in deeper earth. They always have black eyes with black tears streaming down their faces; they are also genderless and do not take on male and female traits or forms.

While harmless in general, they are known for their name of inhabiting a host that has trauma within them--avoiding the ones with no trauma whatsoever. They enter the host into an oral orifice or part of the head, but later come out with via host still attached to them, like parasites and symbiotes. They control the host like a symbiote, still attached to the inside, but they cannot speak and always have tears streaming from their face.

When coming out of a host itself, they form a different color, each color is a different type of trauma:

White/Foggy Grey/Transparent: No trauma, no contact with host.

Black: Unspecified trauma, or unknown trauma

Pink: Trauma from love, lovesickness, or past love

Red: Trauma from violence

Blue: Trauma from illnesses (mostly mental or emotional)

Purple: Trauma from friends/family

Teal: Trauma from losing a loved one/grief

"Rainbow" or multi-colored: multiple types of trauma or different sets of trauma

While white/transparent Titrōbitumites have no powers whatsoever, the colored ones have one set of power(s) from the color they are

Black: summons and shoots out black spikes; victim can die of loss of blood

Pink: Grows and creates flowers and/or plants (which is basically an inspiration of hanahaki disease); victim can die of suffocation, blood loss

Red: Shoots fire, creates heavy smoke clouds and spews lava/magma; victim can die of burning or lack of oxygen

Blue: Aquakinesis and summoning of water; victim can die of drowning

Purple: Electrokinesis and summoning of sparks or electricity; victim can die of electrocution or spontaneous combustion if a purple Titrōbitumite uses too much electricity

Teal: Acid spewing and physical-contact disease spreading; victim can die of illness or death of acid attack.

Multi-colored/"Rainbow": Victim can die multiple ways.

When invading a host's body and coming out of it, they take appearance of the host itself. On other notes, they normally talk, but they mostly do raspy screeching and yelling. A weakness of them is playing or showing a host something they enjoyed to help them from the trauma or helped them get through it (ex. a song, a stuffed animal, photo, etc) that way, the Titrōbitumites can exit the host and return to its egg-like shell until it finds another host.

[samadhigarden]

“KID” Wukong yelled out as he immediately flew to his side and tackled him down, falling off the bone mech. His cloud flew right under him as they made their way upwards into the sky. His breath hitched before his eye lids rested, his breathing died down as the cloud vanished.

“Monkey King!?” MK said in a panic tone as he looked down, noticing the immense height they were in. The others tried their best to fly immediately to their rescue but they were too late.

Tang blinked and yelled out in stress, “We’re not gonna make it!”

The king breathing heavily before wrapping his arms around the boy, hugging him tightly to protect him from the fall. MK shut his eyes tightly before Wukong collided with the ground, coughing out blood as he shifted his body, letting go of MK. The boy got up as he looked at the monkey king, panicking.

“Wait, no no no—“ He yelled out and removed their jacket, wrapping it around the male. He coughed out more blood while the boy held back their tears. Their breath hitched, “I can— I can fix this! You’ll survive— You’re— You’re immortal!”

The monkey king stopped the boy from moving their hands as they cried, shaking while the king weakly laughed, “Kid.. That’s not how immorality works..”

“No, you’re the— you’re the Monkey King! You have to- you will survive!” MK said as the others had flew down, hopping off the plane as they saw Wukong. Tang immediately knew something was wrong and stopped Pigsy from running to MK. The boy hyperventilated, “I can fix— I can fix this! I can—“

Wukong laughed and sighed, groaning in pain, “Kiddo, I’ll be…I’ll be fine.”

“No, no, you won’t! Stop lying!” MK cried out and hugged the monkey king tightly with a cry. The king weakly moved his arm to flick the boy’s bangs, the boy choked out a sob, “You have to survive, you’re the—

“The Monkey King, I know, kid.” Wukong said with a weak smile and let out a shaky breath, ruffling the boy’s hair, “You have to crack a few eggs to make an omelette bud..”

MK froze at the wording as the monkey had went limp, his breathing slowing down before it fully stopped. The boy’s breath hitched before he started to hyperventilate, hugging Wukong tightly while he choked out a sob. Tang clenched his fist as him and the others watched, unsure on what to do before walking over to comfort the boy.

All hope was lost, this wasn’t possible to happen at all. But it did.

[of-gods-and-lesbians]

Prologue - A dragons memory

It had been another hot summer in the volcanic plains of Sonmor, when Bateia once again felt the presence of a god.

The last time it had been gradually growing over time as she and Tamai had grown up together, growing into the red demon. This time it was a punch to her nose. Her delicate nostrils flared as the scent overwhelmed her senses and suddenly pictures flooded her mind. It felt like the connection between a dragon and his rider, the kiss their souls shared. Bateia hadn’t felt this connection for several decades, maybe even a century. She had long stopped counting the years of solitude and loneliness. 

A part of the dragon dies with their rider. 

She had been so sure she’d never feel this connection ever again. And yet here it was , flooding her mind, overwhelming her senses, stronger than she had ever felt it before. Pictures of Tamai, their fight with the shadowdragon, the moment she lost her eye,the moment they met a god for the first time, their journeys,  the moment she met the young boy, the moment her eggs shell finally cracked - memories she had long forgotten, or so she thought. And then there were other pictures. Memories not of her own. 

A human woman smiling down at her, tiny hands reaching for their mother, a young boy, a girl playing, a father dying, a family grieving. A lush tree surrounded by water. A wolf howling at the snake winding itself around the tree trunk and a voice. Words she could not grasp. The snake raised its head, looking up, its glowing eyes staring directly into Bateia, into her heart, her soul, her hurt. Hurt hurt hurt … you’re  hurt … mine, yoursss, hersss, yoursss, MINE and the snake lunged at her, its fangs bared its feathers erected and Bateia saw the girl again, as a girl, as a woman, as hers.

Her rider.

She saw herself roaring into the sky, flying between clouds made of fire, shadows made of smoke beneath her. The girl on her back, a golden spear reaching forward, yelling, her eyes glowing. Bateia saw green eyes and horns, tiny wings, wings that felt wrong, water that brings death and a knowing smile and glowing eyes. Again and again and the words mine, yours, yours, mine US US Us us us us us us….

“Us”, a tiny voice sleepily whispered in her ears and Bateia looked down. She was back in her stable. Steam from the hot springs let the deep red scales of her front legs glisten. Within the crook of her elbow, where her scales were the softest, laid the body of a small child, rolled up like a cat. All Bateia could really make out was a small head of dark brown hair, greyish like dried mud. The rags, humans called clothes, looked way too big on the girls tiny frame. She was sleeping and Bateia could see her dreaming of backing with her mother.

“Tia!” A voice echoed through Sonmor. “Tia, where are-”

But the mother was cut off by one of the lords guards. Her harshly reprimanded her for losing her brat. Bateia lowered her head to peer out into the courtyard with her good eye.

“If she wandered off into the dragon stables she is as good as dead, if no by the red demoness, the lord will surely see to it!” The guard dismissed the woman and trotted towards the stables. Bateia didn’t like him. In fact she didn’t like any of the guards, nor the lord they served. She growled deeply, smoke rising from her nostrils.

When the guard saw her, he hesitated and raised his arms to appease her. But Bateia didn’t back down. he had come to take the girl away, her girl.

Mine.

She knew, he couldn’t understand her and yet the word hovered menacingly between them. He stopped. His eyes widened. Her one remaining good eye glared at him. He wouldn’t dare to try to get on the bad side of a gigantic century old dragon, would he? She leaned down and huffed another warning cloud of hot smoke into his direction. 

MINE.

The guard gulped and the woman behind him lost all color in her face. See seemed to understand quicker than the tin can of guard:

Bateia had found her new rider and it was not Lord Tamryn of Sonmor, son of Tamai the red. 

No.

Her daughter.

It was the little girl, who had been chosen by the red demoness. 

[writerslock]

that fateful day in December-chapter one- intro

The weather was cold, every breath and word being accompanied by a cloud of white smoke. Everyone in town was wearing puffers or a thick jacket, and life seemed peaceful in town for once.

except for one crucial fact.

It was Emilia's birthday.

But, she was nowhere to be found.

It's 7am on a Tuesday, and the house is silent. This is why I love early mornings. The sun is still peering through the clouds, creating a beautiful,dim, relaxing light. I rolled out of bed and put on my slippers. As I got up, I took a deep breath, and headed downstairs to make emils breakfast. I would usually bang on her door to wake her up, but I'll let her sleep in, my little birthday treat.

The light peeking through our kitchen window shows the dust particles flowing through the air. I twist the knob on the stove, pull out some pans, and then head to the basement refrigerator to get some bacon. When I get back, I throw a slice of butter in the pan, watching it melt and sizzle from the heat.

it’s so calm, i could melt.

I stuck the bread in the toaster, fried the eggs, and then cut open the plastic packet of bacon.

i set the table, pouring orange juice in the glasses, as well as a mini water bottle to keep the cup company.at this point, my parents have made their way downstairs, barely waking up with a groggy voice and soreness in their eyes. my siblings followed.

in fact, it seemed like everyone but emila was here.

“hey hon, can you put a pot for me?”my dad asks, rubbing my back in a way to say “goodmorning”

“yeah! two cups?”

“you know it”

“has anyone seen emilia?” my little sister anna asks, sitting down in her seat”

“I was just about to wake her. be right back”

I say with a smile.

As I walk up the stairs, my stomach feels like I just ate bricks. my legs are shaky, and I feel a sense of worry. extremely contrary to what i felt just an hour ago.

it feels like a eternity before i get to her door, and it’s suspiciously quiet. i’m scared.

“Emilia? are you awake” i say, knocking sheepishly at her door.

no answer.

“Emilia? please open the door?”

again, no answer.

“I’m coming in”

I open the door, and through the crack I can see blood.

and then i see Emilia.

in a way i would never want to see her.

laying on the floor. the blood belonging to her. with a gun laying by her side.

.it hasn’t hit me yet

this isn’t real

it’s a mistake

it’s a bad dream, and i’ll just wake up from it.

right now.

and then it hits.

my legs fall to the floor and a silent cry escapes from my throat.

my dry, achy throat.

i can’t believe it.Emilas dead.shes fucking dead on her birthday and i had no idea. so many questions are racing through my mind, yet none of them have a direct answer. What should I do? i’ve been laying on the floor, mouth gaped. I want to scream, to yell, to save her, but again, I don't know why this happened.

I can hear my dad talking up the stairs, and then I can hear him behind me.

9am and the police are at my house.

My siblings are grandmas, and me and my parents are the only ones who stayed. they found a case of letters next to her with names on them, thinking it was linked in some way to her suicide. they asked if they wanted to read mine. I don't say anything. they tuck the note in my tucked arms, and i end up pulling it out and opening the letter anyways.my heart sinks.

“to my sister, bea. you know more than you think.”

what.

“don’t let them take the letters.”

Who is she talking about??? the police???

“I have some unfinished business and a favor to ask?”

anything i can do to hold on to you emilia.

….

What did you do emila?What business did you stick your nose in that caused you to end up in this situation. Recently it seems like all Ihave is questions, but no answers to anything. All I know is i have to get my box of letters, like my life depends on it.

i’ll fulfill your wish emilia, i just hope it doesn’t cause me the same fate as you.